


Flashes of a life

by AwkwardBlueFish



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman - Fandom, DC - Fandom, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen, I keep hurting him :(, Tim Drake is a Good Brother, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardBlueFish/pseuds/AwkwardBlueFish
Summary: What would life be likeBut for a small change?Someone born a moment later,Someone dies another day?Would it seize all your happiness,Or swallow all your pain?Tim lives throughout history, will his family find him? If they do will he be the same? What if they can’t? Will he wait or will he change lives for the better or the worse?Either way he has all the time in the world





	1. For the better, not the worst

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Look who’s back!
> 
> Ok so this is a three different scenarios of Tim being stuck in time! The chapters are NOT related!

They’re coming for him, Tim knows this.  So why is there a little voice saying that they’re not?

He pushes the ( _heart stopping_ ) thought away. His family will come for him, they’re searching for him and they will bring him home. It just might take a while...

( _how long...?_ )

So Tim’s patient. He’s patient as he passes through biblical history, he’s patient as he trips through the Middle Ages and he distances himself from the crack of a whip.

After that a cork had come undone.

His heart clenches and he’s shaking to much when he thinks of home. His rib cage shrinks and his head and heart are in a cage and they _want out_ and Tim _knows_ he needs a distraction while his family comes.

If not for Tim Drake then, _at least_ , for Red Robin.

Life passes by and he can cross off the impossibles. He watches and sees history mysteries unravel before him. Tim travels the world, learns things he never even _thought_ of and he watches as the world builds and creates and breaks before his very eyes.

Tim can’t help but marvel at the accuracy of archeologists of his time and laugh at the mistakes. At night he gazes at the stars that are so clear and only then does he allow himself to think, remember, his family.

Their laughter, the tears, their scars and the petty arguments they share. He remembers their nightly activities and he can almost feel the breeze through his hair and in his face. And eventually, eventually, he remembers the struggles they went through.

_He wonders if he could change it._

He could save them, save their life for the better and they could become so much more than just _kevlar_ and _masks_. They could live their life they were meant to, the life they would have if tragedy had never struck.

But... he’d be alone... ( _so lonely_...)

Tim closes his eyes and takes a rattling breath. He could save them and no loneliness was going to stop him. He will not be selfish.

And it’d be worth it.

Worth it to see Dick fly and soar with his parents. Worth it to get Jason into school and help his mother, to make sure his path never crosses with Joker’s, ever. It would be worth it to see Damian be raised by his true parent, his father. He can make sure David Cain never gets the chance to raise Cass and Barbara never gets paralysed. Duke will live happily with his family and Steph can raise her child.

And Bruce would never have to become Batman, because Tim will.

No threat of loneliness was going to stop him.

~

Tim stands in the heart of crime alley, heart going crazy but otherwise steady.

He watches as three figures enter, unaware that two could leave this earth tonight as a little boy cries. One figure has a gun.

A click- there goes the safety-

 ** _BANG_**!

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
“Thank you.”

 

 


	2. We got him home. (Did we?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They brought him back home. His mind is else where.

The first handful of centuries Tim is patient. He’ll even admit he enjoyed it a little. He’s attentive and fine and he survives throughout Biblical history, the Middle Ages and he tries to make the most of the Renaissance.

Yes, his mind and heart hurt but he had pushed on and became a man that was trusted among many. Tim wore a lot of suits with pride and a promise and now he’s back home. His family got him back near 1946.

The end of the world wars. ( _For now_ )

“Tim?”

He blinks, right. He’s safe and he’s home and he’s in the bunker with his family. He’s home.

Tim quirks a smile, hands over a tool. “Yes?” He asked, his mind reels. It’s been eleven days and three hours since he’s been back. Why is he still like this? He’s being pathetic.

“Eh, you good repla-“

“Jay!”

“-cement? What? It ain’t just me who knows somethin’s up! He’s dazed, like he’s seen a ghost or somethin!”

One,

Two,

Three,

Breathe. Smile, smile for the cameras and pass the demon brat a random tool. Smile, I’m safe and working on the batmobile.

Smile, safe, home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ** _BANG_**!!

“Dang it brat! The hell did you do?!” Jason roars, covered in soot and, quite frankly, pissed the hell off.

“Tt, for your information Todd I was improving this insufferable machine.”

“Well ya doing a bang up job! Ain’t ya!”

“Oh shut your trap you imbecile-“

“Timmy? Are you okay?”

Tim is not okay. Definitely not okay. His muscles are seizing up and shaking at the same time and that’s not right. Not right at all. He’s aware his breathings picking up but he forces himself to look up.

Look up!

He blinks, looks at them. Dick’s worried gaze, brow furrowed, arms coiled to give affection at any given moment. At Jason’s gaze that looks more like a worried glare and at Damian who is defiantly glaring.

In, out. Just breath, you’re home and safe. You’re home.

“Drake?”

It takes to long to realise he’s in a fatal position, to long to wrench palms away from sore ears. To long to realise he has PTSD.

Tim stands up, they startle. He winches and they watch. He tells them he’s fine, they agree not believing as he strides to the showers.

His feet are numb from cold tiles and it’s wrong, so wrong, it should be mud. Mud that should squelch as he runs through it. Giving orders and yelling as he runs for cover from the blast of bullets.

Trench foot, he should have trench foot, Tim thinks vaguely, hands clasped around a tap. It’s a warm welcome. Trench foot.

He closes his eyes and simply remembers.

~

 ** _BANG_**!!

Tim watches as buildings he helped create crumble and crash to the broken ground. Terrified screams from all genders and all ages echo in his ears again and again.

He’ll never forget that sound.

His skin is already scarred but it’s going to get worse. Bullets, grenades and bombs. Dirt, mud and cracked concrete. Screams, yells and shouts of warning and pain.

Tim cares a hole he’ll of a lot but he needs to concentrate. Getting killed isn’t going to help anyone.

He’ll never forget the view.

Innocent and comrades falling, young and old, strangers and friends. Horses kicking through scrable as the injured are carried to healers.

Not all of them will make it.

“Get down!”

Tim ducked and his vision blurred and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Moaning in pain, all he could see was red.

Red and a arm that was scarred as much as his brain. It wasn’t connected to _him_.

A scream joined the rest.

~

Sighing Tim got out of the shower. He didn’t make it far before he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. Crying as he clutched at his robotic arm Cyborg provided for him.

He doesn’t cry for his arm. He cries of the lives lost that he couldn’t save.

~

“Something’s wrong with Timmy.” Dick says, well aware everyone knew.

Jason kicks his feet up on the table, snorting. “No shit Sherlock. People don’t just lose a limb and be A okay!” No surprise there.

“If I may sirs,” Jason quickly retracts his feet, “young Timothy was trapped in the past. I believe his actions, though worrisome, are appropriate.”

They watch their grandfather butler raise a thin eyebrow, sorting out pots and pans.

Dick leans forward, keen on advice or information and Jason snorts. So what? Babybird got stuck and lost a arm. Why does it matter? Most probably did somethin’ stupid anyway.

As if sensing Jason’s thoughts, Alfred sighs. As he peels potatoes he says, “as young detectives as yourselves I’d think you would understand what time you brought him from.”

Silence.

Alfred sighs yet again. “Timothy wore an army uniform.”

Dick stills, face paling. Jason actually leans up in his seat and Damian wiggles out an earphone, discreetly looking up.

“You don’t think.... oh god.”

“Master Timothy fought in the world wars.”

Jason shoots up, chair legs squeaking against polished tile floors. Alfred raises an unimpressed eyebrow but Jay’s already up the steps.

Ignoring the other foot falls behind him he slams open Tim’s bedroom door, ignores the inquiries and yanks Tim’s draws out.

“Jay what are you-?!”

“Aha!”

He holds up a greying picture, slightly wrinkled with a spot of blood. Dick curses and Damian is uncharacteristicly quiet.

The photograph has around eighteen people in it, guns at their sides with green and brown suits. All of them smiling true despite the muck on them and right in the middle is their brother.

Jason huffs out a laugh cause’ of course babybird couldn’t _not_ save lives. The one thing on their mind though is,

What did he go through?


	3. Welcome the warmth

Bruce is tired, he’s tired and he has a headache that’s getting worse by the minute. He’s not stopping he tells himself. He’s not stopping he tells his reflection in the cracked mirror. He’s not stopping he tells Alfred and his four sons and daughters.

Bruce Wayne will not stop looking for his son. He will continue to search for the boy who tells lies for smiles- or worse, tolerance. A boy that lost his father, his mother, his step mother and his best friends.

Tim found him when he was lost, the least he can do is search and find his son.

The world crumbles around him, becoming better, flashes of laughter in that other Gotham. Bruce doesn’t care, he wants his son back. But then the flashes become _heart_ stopping. Tim is in them.

Visions of another Batman, one that is slim but deadlier than Bruce could ever wish to be. Then the mask goes and Tim is there, older but he’s still Tim.

He’s smiling softly and he ruffles Bruce’s, a younger, happier Bruce’s, hair. The younger him has a smile and not a sign of horror and Bruce, he cries.

Because of course Tim would change their past, of course Tim couldn’t _not_ help.

He closes his eyes thinking of his son, he opens his eyes and smiles widely at his adoptive older brother.

—

Duke doesn’t understand why they’re resisting the pull. The world is crumbling away for the better and in this world _their_ Tim is there.

Yes, in his vision Tim is Batman, he’s older and he’s Duke’s adoptive father but he doesn’t care. Yes, it’s weird but younger Duke won’t know the difference. He won’t know the scars Tim holds but at least it’s him.

He welcomes the pull, closes his eyes. He opens them and laughs as Tim, Dad, whacks uncle Bruce over the head jokingly.

—

Cass is confused. The world is crumbling away and she doesn’t understand why. The world just out of reach is beautiful, that Gotham has sun and there’s no screams. She wants to stay here, she can’t.

She stares when Bruce gives in, eyes wide when Duke follows the pull. They would only go for one reason, Tim. _Their_ Tim.

Blinking back tears she dives into the welcoming warmth.

Cass opens her eyes, giggling at her father. David Cain was not her father, never will be. Tim is.

She’s standing on his knees, not needing the balance his hands provide, reaching up to play with his hair. Both knowing Cass could just move and he’d be _battling_ for his life.

Tim reaches forward and tickles her, they both laugh.

—

Damian is not crying. His face is wet but that does not mean he’s crying. A painful sob wracks his body and he flinches wildly at the weak action.

Richard would hug him, Todd would tease and father and Thomas wouldn’t know what to do. Gordon would attempt to entertain him and Drake-

Timothy would rub his shoulder comfortingly. Lead him to a couch with a hot chocolate and they would sit and he would simply listen. He wishes Timothy could do that now.

The world crumbles and he thinks this is the end, so why is it warm?

A weak wail rises through his mouth and suddenly there’s a soft shushing noise. It’s a nice sound but the warmth on his back is even better. Weakly he opens his eyes, revealing a smiling man.

“Hush Dames, you’re safe now.”

—

Barbara ignores the pull, she’ll welcome it when it’s time. It’s not time yet so she flips through the book laying on her lap. Photographs.

It’s Tim and her, enjoying a warm cup of coffee in the winter day. A young Tim grinning shyly, camera around his neck and blushing red. W.E Tim, ignoring his duties to push her around, her arm broken.

She looks and memorises the pictures with a sad smile. They’ll see Tim soon.

Her father has a hand on her back, pushing her to a smiling man. Blue eyes, raven hair and a kind welcoming smile as he kneels in front of her, offering a hand. Shyly she takes it as he grins.

“I heard you like computers. Want to see something cool?”

Barbara grins, red hair bobbing as she nods excitedly. She likes this man.

—

Jason is pissed off. The stupid replacement and his stupid saving people’s thing! Everyone else has given in, just him and dick face left.

He yells in rage when the warmth pulls him, kicking and screaming as he goes.

Jason doesn’t know why a flash of anger hits him but he pushes it down easily. Tim, his adopted father, ruffles his hair with a smile. Jason grins up at him.

“Let’s go visit you mother, yeah?”

Jason doesn’t really want to see his mother, she doesn’t want to see him anyway but if it means he can spend some time alone with the man he won’t complain.

‘Sneakily’ he reaches out and holds onto Tim’s pant leg.

—

Dick’s crying at this point but he no longer cares. Everyone is gone and yet the world building in front of him is peaceful. It’s infuriating.

He’s standing on the last piece of this world. Tim’s on the other, their Tim.

He’s angry because he won’t remember the good times, the bad times or _anything_ and that scares him. What if he takes his new life for granted?

He cries when the pull comes.

He’s crying when he wakes up, a hand shaking him gently. Sniffling he looks at his second father sitting on his bed, worried frown on his face.

He gazes at the doorway, his uncle holding Damian in his hands and his siblings whispering worriedly. They shuffle when he looks at them.

He turns back to his dad.

“Nightmare?”

Dick launches himself at him, arms wrapping around his stomach and trembling with his tears. It definitely had been a nightmare.

 

 


End file.
